


Unclench, Deborah

by allonsytosherwoodforest



Series: Capsburbs [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, capsburbs, fuck you deborah, nicky takes on the pta, specifically deborah, suburban dads au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsytosherwoodforest/pseuds/allonsytosherwoodforest
Summary: Being a PTA dad is hard sometimes. At least the brownies taste good.





	Unclench, Deborah

**Author's Note:**

> This fic belongs to the greater universe of the Suburban Dads AU found at http://capsburbs.tumblr.com/.

The chatter of the PTA moms bounced around the meeting room as Nicky packed up the left-over brownies. The brownies, as always, were a hit with the moms and kids alike (and John and Karl, who usually downed about six a piece in a disturbingly short amount of time) and Nicky liked to provide a sugary snack for the meeting amidst the catered celery sticks with low-fat, low-carb vegetable dip. Nicky always made sure Alex and the boys ate their salad, but sometimes a man just needs some chocolate to get through an hour of rich, gossiping white women dressed in their Sunday best for a Tuesday night meeting in a fucking high school classroom which included finger food and (likely spiked) punch. Honestly, sometimes Nicky wished Alex would deal with the PTA, but Nicky also didn’t want a law suit, so it was probably for the best Alex stayed away.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Nicky caught sight of Alex walking into the room, jingling his keys and craning his head over the PTA moms in heels, scanning for Nicky. His face split into a wide grin when his eyes landed on Nicky, crowing happily (and loudly), “Husband! I come to pick you up!”

Nicky rolled his eyes fondly, and did his best to ignore the happy sighing of rich soccer moms around him. Most of the PTA moms adored Alex, as most people did. (Nicky had to fend off several invitations a week from moms asking Nicky to “lend” Alex to them, just for an evening, Nicky, please. As if.) But of course there was Deborah and her clique of White Republican Moms™ who were rather alarmed and repulsed by Alex’s rather exuberant nature and his marriage to Nicky. 

He straightened and dusted the brownies crumbs off his hands onto his jeans. Alex was honestly a sight for sore eyes. Nicky could feel the migraine forming behind his eyes, he was hungry, and if he had to spend another five minutes listening to fucking PTA president, aggressively Southern Christian Deborah complain about Kathy’s pie that’s absolutely baked from the box-

Alex roused Nicky from his thoughts with a quick kiss. “Hello, my beautiful Nicky! I’m come to take you home now. Kids and I miss you!”  


Nicky hummed and leaned into Alex.

“Long meeting?” Alex asked, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist. 

Nicky allowed himself a brief moment in the circle of Alex’s arms before he pulled away to pick up brownie containers, “’ll tell you about it in the car.”

“Okay, Nicky,” Alex said, taking Nicky’s hand, and squeezing gently.

Nicky had only piled a few of the brownie containers into Alex’s arms when Nicky heard Deborah’s voice in a (clearly) poorly concealed whisper, “Ugh. No wonder their kids are screw ups.”

Oh, she did not. 

Nicky spun around. “What was that?” he asked in a dangerously polite voice. He was Swedish, and politeness was in his bones, but he could use it to be threatening when he wanted to. 

“What was what?” Deborah asked innocently, the Cheshire fucking cat grin on her face giving her away.

“I must’ve misheard you,” Nicky said, smiling politely, “I thought you mentioned something about our kids? Something about screw ups?”

Alex gripped Nicky’s hand warningly. “Let’s go home, Nicky,” Alex said in a low voice.

Deborah crossed her arms. “Now why would I suggest that you and your,” Deborah looked Alex up and down judgmentally, “husband are incapable of raising productive members of society.”

A beat.

“Alex?” Nicky said, sweet and syrupy.

Alex’s swallow was audible. “Yes?”

“Hold the brownies.”

Nicky took a few menacing steps toward Deborah, smoothly skirting the plastic cups half-full of punch that still littered the ground by the chairs. Deborah straightened herself up and puffed out her chest, looking every inch the righteous suburban mother out to protect the community from the horror of the homosexuals that God surely must smite down. Nicky crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow, daring Deborah to test him. 

“Please, do elaborate, Deborah,” Nicky invited conversationally. He could practically feel Alex tensing in nervous anticipation behind him.

“Your lifestyle is a poison to our community and our children,” Deborah said.

Nicky raised another eyebrow. Was that all? 

“Unclench, Deborah. Our kids aren’t going to turn your kids gay. We have raised four wonderful, intelligent, kind children who don’t drink alcohol and buy weed from kids under the bleachers after school. Unlike your son, Tyler.”

A chorus of gasps echoed around the room.

Deborah’s face turned red with indignation, “How dare you insinuate that my son-”

“It’s not my fault your husband left you, Deborah.”

Deborah’s face began turning an alarming shade of purple. And with that Nicky turned around, catching one of the plastic punch cups with the tip of his shoe, sending a flood of red punch running over Deborah’s white Louis Vuitton pumps. 

Deborah screamed in horror and rushed out of the room, followed by her cronies, probably to cry and offer libations to their disgraced goddess and her degraded shoes.

The room was silent for a few, long moments.

One of the moms looked at Nicky with fearful eyes. “Did you mean to spill the punch on her shoes?” 

Nicky stared at her, deadpan. “What do you think.”

“…Yes?”

“There’s your answer then.”

Nicky picked up his wallet from the chair, placed the last brownie container on top of the stack in Alex’s arms, said, “See you on Wednesday, Susan,” and strode from the room. Alex scrambled after Nicky, smiling apologies at the shocked moms as he hurried after his husband.

As they walked down the hallway towards the parking lot Alex glanced at Nicky and said, “Nicky, not gonna lie, I’m pretty turned on right now.”

Nicky smirked. 

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s get the kids ice cream on the way home.”


End file.
